Free Above the Harvest Moon by Rita Bradshaw Page B

anyone. She just wanted to get to bed and think of Adam.
     
    She was about to creep along the hall when she caught the murmur of voices from the sitting room. The door was slightly ajar but as far as she could see there was no lamp lit. Frowning to herself, she paused. And it was then she distinctly heard her uncle say, ‘I don’t know what’s the matter tonight but I can’t perform to order. I’m sorry but there it is.’
     
    ‘You’ve never had any problem before.’ It was her mother’s voice, thick and wobbly. ‘Is it me? Have . . . have I done something wrong?’
     
    ‘Don’t be silly, it isn’t that. It’s me. Look, I’m tired, lass. That’s all. It’s been a long day.’
     
    There was silence for a moment or two and Hannah had actually taken a couple of tentative steps towards the bedroom, her brow wrinkled as she tried to sort out what had been said and what it meant, when her uncle’s voice came again, sharper this time. ‘For crying out loud, Miriam, leave it. I’ve told you.’
     
    ‘You don’t love me any more.’
     
    ‘I just want to get to bed, is that a crime? What if Aggie wakes up or Hannah comes back?’
     
    Now her mother’s voice was more in the nature of a low hiss as she said, ‘How can you say that with the risks you’ve took at times? Couldn’t get enough of me in the early days, could you? Morning, noon and night you wanted it.’
     
    ‘Aye, well, you were willing. More than willing.’
     
    ‘I still am. It isn’t me who’s changed.’
     
    ‘How many times do I have to tell you, woman? I’m tired, that’s all. It’s all right for you, you just have to lie back and enjoy it. It’s different for a man.’
     
    ‘Oh aye, it’s different for a man all right.’
     
    She heard her uncle swear and then her mother say, ‘No, don’t go, Edward. Please. Not like this. Please, Edward.’
     
    Hannah sped along the hall and into her bedroom, shutting the door soundlessly and divesting herself of her clothes with frantic haste. She pulled her nightdress over her head, slid into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She felt physically sick. Her uncle and her mam.
     
    Her feet were as cold as ice and she was shivering, her mind replaying every word she’d heard. Poor Aunt Aggie. For her uncle to do that and with her mam. Did her aunt know? And then she answered herself immediately with, of course she didn’t. She hadn’t known, had she, so why should her aunt? Aunt Aggie was confined to bed most of the time.
     
    Her heart was drumming in her ears as she waited for her mother to enter the room but when after a minute or two nothing happened, her heartbeat gradually returned to normal and she began to relax. Curling herself into a little ball under the thick eiderdown to get warm, she tried to take in the enormity of the fact that her mother was carrying on with her Uncle Edward. Suddenly a hundred and one small incidents in the past took on a new significance.
     
    They were horrible, the pair of them. To treat her Aunt Aggie like that. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know, it was still awful, disgusting. And her mam . . . Only last week she’d gone on and on about that woman from Swan Street running off with the milkman, she’d called her everything. And yet she was living in her aunt’s house and supposedly looking after her. Her own sister-in-law.
     
    Her eyes wide, Hannah stared up at the ceiling.Trust her mam to spoil everything. She had been so happy when she came in tonight and now it was all ruined. And then she felt guilty for being so selfish in view of how her aunt was being treated.
     
    After a few minutes of tossing and turning she sat up in bed. She reached for her coat which she had slung on the chair next to her bed along with her other clothes and delved into the pocket and found the comfit. Her bed was situated under the window and now she knelt up, pulling the thin curtains aside so the light from the street lamp spilled over the